Jobless Transportation - The Honored One

Nostalgic Energy

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on multiple existing anime/manga series. The characters and settings used in this story belong to their respective owners and creators, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to infringe upon any existing intellectual property. I do not own any of the original works that inspired this fanfiction, and I fully support the original creators and their works.

-Story Start-

A radiant dawn embraced the Magic City of Sharia, heralding the new day as the sun ascended beyond the horizon.

The sky, devoid of yesterday's snow clouds, painted a clear canvas above the city.

Cobblestone streets, once desolate, now stirred with the diverse tapestry of races - Mainly those toiling in the city's bakeries, mills, and tending animals at its outskirts.

Yet, waking up at this early hour would have been a lamentable prospect for one particular man.

That man was presently lost in the comforting embrace of a deep slumber within the confines of an inn.

His mouth hung open, a testament to the tranquility of his rest. A stray leg dangled over the bed's edge, and the blanket barely covered one foot. His face never seemed to make contact with the pillow at the bed's edge.

Much like the man himself, his sleep position was an example of chaos and disorder.

A vulnerable and carefree sleep position that would get most people of notable repute killed without difficulty.

Of course, this man's vulnerable sleep habits were well-founded.

This man was Gojo Satoru, and he could sleep in a dragon's lair without a care in the world -Or so he claimed when questioned about his seemingly vulnerable sleep habits.

As Satoru basked in peaceful relaxation, the rhythmic knock on his wooden door disrupted his peace.

He reluctantly and lazily opened his eyes, emitting a groan of displeasure, "Who is it at this hour?!"

In a fit of irritation, Satoru added mentally, 'If it's Nina, I'm beating her up in our next Sword Spar.' A bit petty and hypocritical, perhaps, but Satoru was not in the mood for unexpected wake-up calls.

A haughty yet refined voice responded to Satoru's irked inquiry from beyond the door, "Is this Gojo Satoru's room?"

Satoru's Six Eyes focused on the door, revealing beyond it an extremely short, stiff, stout, mustached older man adorned in a fancy suit and robe, his garb adorned with numerous emblems.

This man, Satoru presumed, held some significance.

Breathing in, Satoru shook off the weariness from being woken up suddenly and formed his conclusion about the individual in question.

'This short geezer is probably Principal Georg' Satoru managed to conclude from the clues.

Georg - The principal of the Ranoa Magic Academy holds influence akin to royalty or even of a king of a moderately powerful country, his connection might surpass even Asuran royalty thanks to the global significance of the educational institute he heads.

He'd read all about him and this Academy back in the Holy Land Of Swords - It was the very reason he decided to head over here, even prior to his formal invitation to enroll.

The looks, the clothing, the royal demeanor, and the impressive amount of mana were a dead giveaway for Satoru.

'The Academy... Will I find a method to get me home?' Satoru wondered in his mind as he was about to meet the literal principal.